


You Throw Your Head Back Laughing

by alice_fell_through



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/M, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-14
Updated: 2016-01-01
Packaged: 2018-05-01 14:37:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5209601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alice_fell_through/pseuds/alice_fell_through
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Noah liked his life. He was happy; maybe more importantly, he was content. He didn't have a lot of friends, but he'd never needed to be surrounded by people. He had his job as a farmhand, and his employers treated him like family. His own family lived just a few hours away, close enough to see whenever he wanted. He had his crossbow, fishing rod, and truck. He didn't need much else.</p><p>And then, when he was fresh out of the shower one morning, the words appeared on his chest.</p><p>
  <i>'Hey, handsome. Like what you see?'</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. she's rolling north like a neon train

**Author's Note:**

> This is a story that has been rattling around my head for a long time. I've also had this chapter written for a long time, but only recently managed to edit and complete it. I have a lot of things written in my head for these characters and this story, and it is all already very dear to me. I'm very excited to share it with you. Thank you so much for reading, and please tell me what you think.
> 
> Thank you to subluxate for beta'ing and being a great editor. Chapter title comes from "Razor Blade" by Luke Bryan.

It had started off as a normal summer day at the Holland farm for Noah. He woke up before the rooster crowed, as was his lifelong habit, and pulled on yesterday's clothes in the dark of the hayloft where he slept, eyes wide open but gritty with sand. He laced his mud-covered boots, poured some instant coffee into a bottle of water, and went on his way just as the sun started to rise. The air already felt muggy and hot, typical of a wet Georgia summer. By the afternoon, he imagined the sun would have baked off any remaining damp, him along with it.

The chickens and geese ran to greet him when he arrived at their field, hungry and impatient. Noah made sure to feed them first in the morning. He well remembered his first few experiences with them, when he'd fed them after the horses and cattle. He had never seen or heard birds so unhappy. A year later and still first in line to be fed, they didn't seem inclined to let him forget. The pigs after them were just as grumpy, but either too lazy or distracted by food to truly let him know. He hung up the feed buckets in the shed once they were satisfied, and noticed a few cats had started following him when he stepped out and headed to the barn that held all the cattle. The farm had five or so cats that ran from barn to barn and knew the farm schedule better than he did. They watched carefully, finding perches near the door and in the lofts as he fed the cattle and cleaned their udders as they ate.

One brave cat, a large male that had to have some Norwegian Forest Cat in him going by his size and coat, followed Noah from stall to stall. He was the friendliest of the barn cats; they were all greedy for handouts, but most weren't big on being touched. The male, who Noah called Lion, would practically assault someone to make them pet him; his favorite trick was headbutting someone as hard as he could in the back of the ankle to get their attention. Noah hoped that wasn't his intention then and kept an eye on him as he lined the cows up to hook them to the milking machines. 

He led the cattle out to pasture when they were done and cleaned their stalltalls and the machines while Lion supervised. Feeding and letting the horses from their stalls was next, which he did with a small smile. The horses always seemed the happiest to see him, nosing at his shoulders while he fed them, but they were a happy bunch. They nickered softly to each other as they ate and he mucked out the woodshavings in their stalls and whinnied in delight as they were led into their own field. Noah thought that he knew how they felt.

Miss June had breakfast waiting when he finished his early morning chores and made his way to the farmhouse, stomping the mud off his boots on the steps of the front porch and leaving them outside the door. It was an old, well-loved brick farmhouse, two stories with open rooms, filled with the type of furniture that was passed down through generations. He had been at the farm for a little less than a year, but the Hollands had treated him like family from the get-go. Miss June took care of the small peach orchard and kitchen garden the farm had, while he handled the heavy work that helped keep the farm from going broke. Mister Isaac was quiet but friendly; he didn't seem to hold any resentment at being told by the doctor that he should stop working on his own farm and find someone else to take over the hard work. For want of something to do, he had started taking care of the house, keeping it clean and making small repairs.

They gave Noah room and board and paid him what they could. They offered him a room in the house, which he accepted during the winter. When the weather was warm enough, he preferred to sleep in the hayloft of a barn that was used as storage for broken machines and their parts, where the cats kept him company and the mice down. They were nice people, had a nice little farm. Large fields to work, some horses and cattle. The chickens and pigs he fed supplied eggs and meat only for the farm. Best of all, in Noah's opinion, the Hollands owned a few acres of wooded land they let him hunt in when the law allowed, were glad for the extra meat. He didn't see a reason to leave it any time soon.

He ate at the small table in the kitchen, while Mister Isaac sat across from him and read the day's paper and Miss June washed the morning dishes. Mister Isaac might have been the one taking care of the house now, but as Noah understood it, the kitchen would forever and always belong to Miss June. She talked about the last phone call she'd had with her son to fill the silence. He was Noah's age, had moved to New York City after he got an art scholarship to some fancy school, a few years before Noah had come to the farm. He was apparently doing well for himself, had gotten into some even fancier art college on an even better scholarship. Noah figured the mostly one-sided conversation was for Isaac's benefit, to fill him in on how his son was doing, but he listened anyway as he scraped his plate clean and refilled it with what was left.

He grabbed a pair of clean clothes from the laundry room when he was done and went into the downstairs bathroom to shower change. Yesterday's clothes, old jeans and a faded sleeveless shirt, were thrown into the hamper to be replaced by nearly the same thing. It was a different pair of old jeans and a different sleeveless shirt, but it was the easiest thing to wear when he knew he was going to be working in the Georgia heat all day.

It was when he went to button up his shirt that he glanced in the mirror over the sink and saw it. Two sentences on his chest, dark like a fresh tattoo and written in confident feminine handwriting, backwards in the mirror. Noah knew what it was, of course. There was no moment of confusion or wonder, no moment of thought. It wasn't there and then it was; the sight of it hit him in the stomach and stole his breath.

A soulmark.

They were rare, but they happened. Most people had heard of or knew some couples who had them. Noah personally knew just the one. He'd seen his parent's soulmarks every day growing up, the 'Fuck you' so bold on the outside of his father's left arm and the rough 'Wanna go gator huntin'?' on the inside his mother's right elbow. He had grown up with the story of his mother venturing out of her untamed life to enter high school, where she met his father, who was wild and needed to be roped. All it took was his mother cussing him away and giving him the bird for that to happen; she tamed him when she ended up pregnant a few months later.

Noah had grown up with the story. He knew it as well as he knew his Scripture. But he never expected it to happen to him, never thought to ask, when he was young and asked so many questions about things he didn't understand, about what to do when your soulmark showed up. It was rare for him to meet anybody new--but he would be meeting them soon. His parents' story was the only personal one he had to go on, and theirs had appeared the day before they met. That was fast, they had told him, but not uncommon. It varied. He had read stories where they had appeared weeks before the people met, myths where it had been years. In some movies, it happened in hours, minutes. _Happened_ , like it was no big deal. Happened, like you met the person God made you for and made for you a few times a week.

_Hi, handsome. Like what you see?_

Noah's face lit on fire as he read the words again and they finally sank past the fog of shock. He wished for a moment that he could wipe the steam back onto the glass and unsee it. He had no idea what he would say to such a thing normally and cringed at the idea of anyone (his _soulmate_ , his heart and brain helpfully corrected) having something as idiotic as _Um._ forever printed on their skin.

He jumped when someone knocked on the bathroom door.

"Noah, is everythin' all right?" Miss June asked from the other side.

How long had he been staring at himself in the mirror like a slack-jawed fool? "'m fine," he said, hoping he sounded normal. "I'll be out inna second." He hurriedly buttoned up his shirt. It would be better to keep the mark hidden for now. Maybe it would give him time to figure out what to do and how this might play out.

He was distracted after that. He felt lucky he worked alone and nobody was around to see him fumble through his tasks or stare into space. The words kept running through his mind. _Like what you see?_ He didn't know what to say to that. Even if he _did_ have days to think about it, he imagined he wouldn't know what to say when the moment came. Noah could think of something smooth to say for as long as he wanted, but he wasn't a natural conversationalist, and nothing he rehearsed would ever come out his mouth right when it came time to say it for real. He had a few horrendous memories from elementary class plays to prove it. On top of not knowing what to say, he simply didn't know _how_ he was going to meet this person. Most of the people he knew, he knew from school and not well at all. There certainly wasn't a chance to meet them at the farm, and he rarely ran into anyone new on his parents' or grandfather's land. Church was an option, he supposed, but he couldn't imagine doing anything to warrant such a question in the house of the Lord.

By the time the end of the day rolled around, Noah was in desperate need of a way to simply shut his mind down. For him, that meant going for a hunt or drinking a few beers or some 'shine. The farm was stocked with meat, so hunting wasn't a logical option. That left drinking, which was no problem for Noah--save that the Hollands had a dry farm and his moonshine stash had yet to be refilled. If he wanted a drink, he would have to go into town for it. As he headed back to the farmhouse, he reconsidered his options. He wasn't much of a people person, wasn't much for noise. But all it took was a glimpse of the words on his chest while he changed clothes before supper to help make his mind up. He'd rather the noise and crowds of a bar than keep obsessing over something he couldn't figure out or change.

He told Miss June and Mr. Isaac that he was going into town at supper, though not exactly where. He saw them glance at each other and have what he could only assume was a telepathic conversation; he had seen his parents do the same thing time and time again. Neither of the Hollands said anything disapproving, however, so he went to the bathroom to wash his hands and face before he left the house and got into his truck.

Night had already fallen when he pulled into the one bar in town that didn't check IDs. Noah had never asked, but he thought it was because the owner was related to the local sheriff; they shared a last name, which could mean everything in such a small community. Not that it mattered or that he cared. He just wanted to be able to enjoy a beer and not be hassled for the fact that the law said he wasn't old enough to handle it, months before he turned twenty-one and had been sipping moonshine since he was fourteen.

There weren't many people outside when he walked to the bar door. The few that were stood about twenty feet away in the smoking area and didn't pay him a bit of attention, which was fine with him. He scanned the bar when he walked in, finding it half full. Like most places with a dance floor, it was _loud_. Noah stopped and winced, nearly turning around to leave and try and find a gas station that would sell to him. To city folks, his parents were survivalists; to country folks, they were redneck hicks. He had grown up in the woods with his mother for the first few years of his life, before his father's stint in the army was over and they built a small house, where the loudest sounds had been his parents teasing each other or, infrequently, their arguments and where music was kept low or played and sung by the family. He would never like loud, especially _this_ , even if it was his type of country music.

He wanted a fast beer more than he wanted to go somewhere quiet, though, so he kept walking to the bar and one of the empty stools in front of it. None of the other patrons paid any attention to him; they were all staring at the dance floor instead of yet another dusty farmhand, and he was thankful for it. Noah had never been much of a social person, though he liked people well enough. He took a seat at the bar without a care for to _what_ they were looking at. He had never been into dancing, had never been good at it like he was with tracking, reading the still and silence of the woods, and he didn't see the point in looking.

When the bartender walked over, Noah ordered a glass of whatever was on tap. Halfway into his first drink, he felt the tension in his neck start to loosen. That was better. One more, maybe, and he might be able to think about anything other than liking what he saw--if he'd be able to think at all over the music. He was starting to wonder how people actually enjoyed places like this.

Noah took another look around the bar, like it would give him an answer. A few more people had come in since he had sat down. The majority of the bar patrons were still watching the dance floor, though he realized for the first time that it was mostly men and a few women who seemed truly entranced. Finally curious, he turned in his seat to try and find what they were looking at. Immediately, he saw her.

Her. Oh sweet God, _her_.

She was dancing by herself, in little cut off jeans and a tied-up shirt that showed off long, strong legs and tan skin. The smile on her face was nothing short of joyful, nearly glowing with a light that seemed to shine out of her. She danced like it was nothing and made it look like everything. Like it was what she was born to do. And Jesus Christ, she was fucking beautiful for it.

After a long moment of what couldn't have been short of gaping, Noah felt an odd hiccup in his chest. She was the most gorgeous woman he had ever seen, dressed like a city woman's idea of a country girl and with a smile like that. There was no way she would look at a redneck farmhand like him, who still had dirt sticking to his skin and smelled like sweat from a day's work. He turned back to his beer before he could stare any longer and make a complete ass of himself.

He finished what was left in his mug as he tried to focus on the words on his chest. Even though, they had been at the forefront of his mind since he saw them, they were now pushed away by her, her smile, her pretty blonde hair. Noah was just about to order another beer to give him some mercy when he felt someone sit on the stool beside him, close enough for him to hear them when they talked.

"Hi, handsome."

Oh.

Oh, no.

Sweet Jesus, no.

He turned to his left with wide eyes and a dry mouth, oddly fearing what he would find, and saw _her_ smiling that smile at him, bright and warm as sunshine. It widened, nearly knocking him from his chair. "Like what you see?" she asked, fluttering her eyelashes.

God help him not to say 'Um.'

"It's you." He meant for it come out as a shocked question, but it didn't. It came out awe-filled, a holy revelation, which she was. She was a God-sent miracle.

He watched her smile fade in shock, her big brown eyes widening. His heart pounded in his chest hard enough to crack his ribs, and he wondered if he had made a mistake, if it wasn't her and he'd said something wrong. To his growing amazement and disbelief, she reached for his hand and laced her fingers, so soft and warm, between his. He stared, still in shock himself and already half gone on her, as a smile, softer than before, curled up her cheeks.

He was so fucked.

"Let's go talk." She slid from her seat and tugged on his hand.

Noah followed her like he was under a spell, and maybe he was. The world around them, along with the thought that he should pay for his beer, had faded to a corner of his mind; now it was flooded away by her smile and her hand in his. She led him out of the bar, the sudden quiet making his ears ring after the pounding music inside, away from the door until they came to a small bench by the parking lot.

It was metal, spotted with rust, and looked near falling apart; before she could began to sit down, he blurted, "My truck would be more comfortable." She looked back at him; he flushed at how it sounded and hurriedly explained, "For talkin', I mean. Better seats. Radio."

Her eyes sparkled. "Okay."

It was his turn to lead. His hand tightened on hers before he brought her to his truck. He'd gotten it when he was seventeen, from an old farmer back home who'd taken payment in the form of a farmhand for a couple of months. It wasn't new or shiny, a faded blue Dodge Ram from the nineties that he had slowly upgraded over the years, at least inside the cab and under the hood, and he'd kept the body free of cancerous rust. Like him, it was covered in dirt and dust from the day. He hoped she wouldn't mind the state of it as he opened the passenger door for her and offered her his hand to help her climb up into the seat. There was dirt on the floorboards,and a few tools from the farm littered the backseat, but it was otherwise clean, and he was glad for that. He walked around the front of the truck and climbed into the driver's seat. His skin prickled as soon as he shut the door; he could feel her presence, alone and so close, like static electricity in the air, just before lightning struck.

He couldn't look at her yet, distracted himself instead by putting the key into the ignition so they could listen to the radio. It was on his usual station of choice, a country station that advertised playing 'nineties to now' every twenty or so minutes. It was in the middle of commercials, but he left it; this far out, there weren't many stations, and they all seemed to play commercials at the same time.

She was the one to break the silence, like she had when she'd sat down and shined into his life. "I'm Joy." Of course she was. "Joy Maserati. Yes, like the car." It must have been something she was asked a lot, with how practiced the last sentence sounded, and a smile twitched at his lips, emerging through the shock.

He finally looked at her, softly illuminated with the lights from the dash and the parking lot, and it was only his manners that unglued his tongue from the roof of his mouth. "Noah. Hunter."

Joy smiled in that sweet way again and made him feel helpless all over. "It's nice to meet you, Noah Hunter."

He had no idea what to say after that. He didn't much talk to women, especially a woman like Joy, but it was more than that. She wasn't just a woman--like there was ever such a thing--but his _soulmate_. What do you say after you meet your soulmate?

Joy didn't seem to have that problem. "So when did your mark show up? I saw mine earlier tonight. It was a nice surprise." She giggled, hooking her hands around one knee. " _You're_ a nice surprise."

He couldn't imagine that, considering he hadn't showered since that morning and was in worn and faded work clothes. "Saw it this mornin'," he answered. "'Fore I started the day's work. Right here." He raised a hand to his chest, over his heart. His hands dropped into his lap and his gaze followed them. He felt like he couldn't look at her smile and talk at the same time, but his eyes still lifted to her when he spoke again. "Didn't think it'd be anyone like _you_."

She tilted her head, spilling hair over her shoulder. "Like me?" It wasn't a clueless question--with the way she danced, she obviously knew how attractive she was--but simply asking him what he meant. What he thought of her.

Even if he had been good with words, he would have been stumped at that. As if he could ever have the words to describe how she seemed to him; far more than beautiful, shining from the inside in a way that dimmed the sun and stars and nearly blinded him. He shrugged, shy, and ducked his head again. "Ya just... Ya got this light 'bout ya." It felt like such a weak answer.

She didn't immediately answer and he felt himself start to panic, glanced at her out of the corner of his eye to gauge her reaction. Any unease he had was replaced by pure bafflement when he found her blushing, looking pleased as she smiled, almost shy. _Shy._ Noah couldn't imagine how he had gotten such a reaction.

"That's very sweet of you." She pushed her hair back, and his eyes followed the movement, over the curve of her ear and down, almost caressing her neck. His fingers suddenly itched to follow the same path. "So are you from around here?"

"Nah. Not really." He picked at a loose thread on his pants to give his fingers something to do. "Work at a farm outside town, been there 'bout three years. But I grew up a few hours south, in Brantley County."

"Yeah? What was that like?"

He shrugged a shoulder, not knowing what to say. She was so glamorous, so obviously not from Georgia or out in the country. How was he supposed to explain his life to someone like that? "Raised by my folks. They had me real young. Mama was sixteen, Dad was a year older. Didn't see him much for the first few years. He joined the Army for the paycheck, so it was really just me and my mom for a bit."

Joy surprised him again by sounding interested. "Did you like it?"

"Yeah. Loved it. We, uh." He hesitated, clearing his throat before he continued. "We lived off the land until my dad got done with his four years of active duty. Outside, I mean. We hunted and foraged and grew some things here and there. Stayed with my Pops, my mom's dad, in the winter. He has this little cabin. Was nice."

"It sounds lovely." Her smile was still there, not as wide and bright, but still warm. He wondered if she would ever stop amazing him. "I can tell when you talk about it that you really enjoyed it. Is that how you got into working on farms?"

"Sorta. Folks built a little house when my dad's stint was over. Had some crops, a few livestock, but nothin' big. Enough for just us."

He couldn't remember talking this much to someone he'd just met. There was something about her that made the words flow out of him like a stream. Noah's life had never lacked for kindness, but he'd always been wary about sharing his roots. Even in Georgia, full of country girls and good ol' boys, he could remember being avoided and quietly teased in school because his upbringing had been so wild and he brought things like squirrel and dandelions for lunch. But he could tell, as sure as he knew the sky was blue, that there wasn't a mean or mocking bone in Joy's entire being.

"Got into workin' big farms when I was 'bout seventeen. Dropped out and got my GED so I could take some farmhand jobs. 'Ventually led to me bein' up here." He shrugged again. "That's pretty much my story. What 'bout ya?"

"Oh, well." She settled back in her seat, wiggling to get comfortable. "I'm from Lansdowne, this suburb outside of Philadelphia. Only child. My dad writes books, and my mom used to teach economics at UPenn. I took a lot of dancing classes growing up. I've always loved dancing. My mom said I danced in her womb." She flashed him a smile. "Probably not true, but it's a nice thought. That's what I'm doing now, traveling across the States and dancing to pay my way."

"Yer a good dancer." He felt his face heat as her everlasting smile widened. "Saw ya inside."

"I know." Her eyes sparkled again. "I saw you looking. It's what made me go up to you." She must have seen his confusion because she went on. "I mean, I know most people were looking at me. But they were thinking, 'Wow, she's hot', or 'How can I get in her pants?'" She didn't sound proud about it. She almost sounded disgusted. "Not you, though. You were looking at me like..." She paused a moment. It seemed deliberate, not like if Noah had paused mid-sentence. He'd be trying to find his words, but she seemed like she knew exactly what she wanted to say, and wanted to say it right. "Like you liked my dancing. Like you respected me."

He didn't know what to say that, didn't really understand why something that should be common sense made him so special. "Sorry 'bout everyone else," he murmured.

"Don't be. They don't matter right now." She reached over the console and put her hand over his where it rested on his leg. Her hand was smaller than his, fingers long and delicate and calloused to his slight surprise. They were soft callouses, nothing compared to his work-roughened hands, but callouses nonetheless.

Noah noticed it all in a faraway light, too distracted by the warmth and immediacy of her touch and his heartbeat in his ears.

Before he could think of anything to do or say, she pulled her hand away. He looked up, wondering what he'd done, but she was still smiling, just reaching for the dial on the radio.

"I love this song," she said as she turned the volume up. The commercials had stopped and what sounded like a slow Taylor Swift song had started playing. "Roll the windows down?"

"Why?" he asked, even as he did as she asked. He didn't look away from her as he fumbled for the switches to roll the front windows down, accidentally rolling the back down halfway before he realized his mistake.

"I want to dance." Joy opened her door and went to climb out. He blinked, curious, but not enough to stop her. She looked over her shoulder at him. "Aren't you going to get out?"

Oh. "Ya wanna dance with me?"

She giggled. "Well, yeah." Like it was the simplest thing in the world.

He couldn't imagine such a thing. "Don't know how t' dance like ya do."

"I'll show you." She smiled that soft smile again and jerked her head before she climbed down. "Come on. It'll be fun."

He decided to take her word for it, even as he reluctantly climbed out of the driver's seat.

She was waiting for him in front of the truck, swaying softly to the music. He stopped in front of her, hands hanging awkwardly at his sides, no idea what to do. The music from the truck was just audible.

She smiled up at him. "How do you know how to dance?"

"Hm?"

"You said you didn't know how to dance like I do. So how _do_ you know how to dance?"

He nearly answered that he didn't know _any_ way to dance, much less have the ability to do so, when he thought about his parents and the rare nights and parties where he would watch them slowly move back and forth together to some George Strait or Fleetwood Mac song. Hesitating, Noah stepped closer and reached for her hand. She let him take it, linked their fingers once he did, the same as she had inside the bar. Her smile brightened as he rested his hand on her hip, gingerly, like he was afraid of being burned. She shifted even closer, enough for their bodies to brush and for him to sense how well they might fit together. With her free hand, she led his from her hip to the small of her back, . He could feel the heat of her skin through his shirt and a rush of matching warmth flooded his body, made his ears burn.

He looked down at their feet and tried to push the distractions she caused away, tried to remember what the steps were. "Think this is right..."

Slowly, uncertainly, he started to move. They swayed for a moment as Taylor Swift sang about laughing and beginning again before Joy stepped back and pulled him with her, her steps far more graceful and confident than his as they danced in a small circle.

"See? It's not so hard," she said softly. "And you're not bad at dancing at all."

He didn't agree but couldn't argue, too busy making sure he didn't step on her feet. She was in pretty little heels while he was still in his mud-covered boots, and he didn't think crushing her toes would help at all. By the time the second chorus rolled out of the truck speakers, he thought he had it figured out enough to not hurt her and looked up. He didn't know where he expected her to be looking --at the sky, over his shoulder, maybe at the bar--but he found her staring at him with that soft smile that made him want to fall to his knees.

"What?" He had no idea what she found fascinating enough that she'd look at him like _that_.

Her smile widened. "You," she answered simply.

Before he could ask what that meant, she leaned up and pressed her lips to his. It was a soft kiss, nothing more than her lips against his, but it felt like the static buzzing between them had released in a bolt of lightning. He froze, his eyes wide as hers slipped closed. All he could focus on were her fingers tightening around his, the brush of her chest against his shirt, the smell of her perfume. It wasn't until she pulled back that he registered how soft her lips were, how they sent sparks down his spine. They had stopped their spinning and swaying, but his mind was still keeping step.

He stared in something akin to wonder as Joy smiled again. "You want to get out of here?" she asked

He licked his lips, trying to find his voice, and tasted the synthetic sweetness of her lip gloss. Peaches. "An' go where?"

"We can go to where I'm staying." Her touch left a burning path as she slid her hand down his arm. "It's not far."

His answer was quiet. "'kay." At this point, he thought he'd drive clear out of Georgia if she wanted him to. All she had to do was ask.


	2. put my lipstick on your right cheek

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for how long this chapter has taken to post. A few things happened to hinder my writing - a writer's block, my laptop was stolen, and the holiday season to name a few. But here it is now!
> 
> Thanks to subluxate for editing, and tigerkat for helping me write through a few of the tough parts.

Heart, Georgia was the first small town that Joy stayed in. Her trains had stopped in quite a few to let passengers board and leave, but she had done little more than stretch her legs with a walk around the station at each until Heart. The station she had walked around last had been at the edge of a little town surrounded on three sides by forest, the sky enormous above it, part of the Blue Ridge mountain range soared to the southwest. That view alone had pulled her to stay. She found a clean, comfy little motel room with good locks on the door and a view of the mountains, but she couldn't find a place to work. That was actually nice, she decided. The room didn't cost much, and there were worse places she could stay.

Who was she to say no to a little vacation when she could afford it?

She booked the room early in the morning, sluggish and tired from a bad night's sleep on the train. The bed called to her like a siren's song, and Joy didn't try to resist it. She dropped her bags by the door and made sure it was bolted, stripping gracelessly as she stumbled to the bed. Her check for bedbugs was brief but told her it was clean, and that was all she needed before she crawled under the covers. She sank into the mattress, blankets a sweet, heavy weight above her, and gazed with slitted eyes out of the window. The sky was pale blue, thin clouds speckling it like an eggshell over the mountains.

She blinked, and it all changed, the sky a darkening mix of pink and orange, the mountains a contrast of shadows. An entire day slept away, and she hadn't even moved. Sleep pulled at her eyelids again, and she was tempted to stay in her cocoon and doze, blinking the stars awake. Then she realized she really had to pee, and that idea was ruined. Joy threw back the covers, the air of the room pleasantly cool against her skin--the air conditioner must have kicked on while she slept--and managed to make it to the bathroom without stubbing a toe or banging a knee, despite yawning and rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

She was washing her hands when she noticed the dark smudge just visible over the waist of her panties. Wondering where she had picked up a bruise without noticing, she pushed the band elastic down, hand still wet, for a better look.

It wasn't a bruise. She had to blink once or twice before even registering what she saw.

Words.

Two words, in a choppy block print on her right hip.

_It's you._

Oh. Oh holy Christ.

She needed to call her mom. _Now_.

Joy raced back into the bedroom, taking a wild leap over her jeans to avoid tripping. She dumped her purse onto the bed, too impatient to dig through it, and triumphantly snatched her phone off of the sheets.

"Call Mom!" The few rings it took for her mother to answer the phone felt like ages. Insanely happy ages. She didn't give Acacia time to say hello, and she would apologize for that later, but oh my GOD. "MOM, GUESS WHAT."

“What?” her mother said, sounding alarmed. “What? Joy? What’s going on?”

"I'm sorry for yelling! Nothing's wrong, everything's GREAT, I am just so excited!" She paced around the room as she talked a mile a minute, barely keeping herself from tossing the phone back to the bed and dancing in excitement. Her pacing had turned to dancing somewhere as it was. "I stopped in this little town in Georgia, it is just so beautiful, and it wasn't there when I went to sleep this morning but it's there NOW, and--it's a soulmark."

Acacia was silent for a long, unnerving moment before she said, “Oh my God. Joyful, really?” She sounded impressed, and happy, and a little scared. “What does it say? Where is it? Are you serious?”

"I'm so serious." Stopping at the foot of the bed, she let herself fall back. The mattress caught her with a bounce and she sprawled on the bed, knees hanging over the edge and feet on the floor. Her heart kept bouncing jumping in her chest. "It's on my hip. My right one." Her free hand came up to cover the spot, words warm under her touch. "It says, 'It's you.'"

“That’s amazing.” Joy could hear the smile in her mother’s voice. “‘It’s you.’ How beautiful. Did you just find it now?”

"Yes, right before I called. I thought it was a bruise at first." She smiled, thumb tracing over the letters. Her panties had remained pushed halfway down in her haste to find her phone. "They must be somewhere in this town, right?"

“Probably. You’re not planning to move on soon, are you? Where are you, anyway? I want to meet this person, when you find them.” Her mother shouted, her voice muffled like she’d covered the phone and shouted, “It’s Joy!” then added at a normal pitch, “Your father says hello. Can I tell him about this?”

"Of course! Tell Daddy I say hi and I love him. I was actually planning on staying and taking a small break before I saw it--it really is a gorgeous area in the Blue Ridges, this little town named Heart. Heart, Georgia, in Towns County."

Acacia laughed. “That’s perfect. Heart, Georgia. So, yes, I think your person’s somewhere in that town. Going to be there for a few more days?” Her voice sounded suspiciously casual.

"Maybe a week…" Joy debated asking why her mother was curious and decided against it. If she was planning something, it couldn't be too bad. "Maybe more. I don't know. This changes things."

“Of course,” her mother said softly. “All relationships do, and this… well. Are you going out, then?”

Joy had planned on staying in, relaxing with a bath and doing her nails. The latter would still get done, but there was no way she could stay in her room after this. She needed to celebrate. She needed to dance. "Definitely."

"Do me a favor and take a picture of it for me, before you leave. I want to see what I can guess about them." That wasn't an unusual request. Acacia had a tendency to analyze any handwriting she came into contact with.

"I can do you one better," she answered, cheerful. Quickly, she used the front-facing camera to take a picture of her mark and sent it with a few taps. "It should be on its way now."

There was a pause, and then her mother said, “Received. Hmm. I’ll look at this. Call me as soon as you meet them, do you understand me, Joy? I am your mother, and I will know if you don’t.”

"Yes, ma'am," she said, laughing. "I will, I promise."

“Good,” Acacia said ominously. “Remember, I will _know.”_

"I know you will, Mom. Really, I'm surprised I had to tell you about this." Joy kicked her feet as she sat up, smiling. "I'm so excited."

“And so you should be, Joyful.” There was another pause, shorter this time. “I’m so happy for you, sweetheart.”

"I know. Thank you." She glanced out the window to see the stars twinkling back at her. "I should start getting ready. Let me know how Daddy reacts, okay?"

“I will. I’ll let you go, then. I love you, Joyful.”

"I love you back. Daddy, too."

She stared out the window for a bit after the call ended, watching the sky darken and more stars appear like fireflies. Her heart beat fast in her chest, excited. Happy. She didn't know who or what to expect; maybe that should have made her nervous, but it didn't. She had the same feeling in her stomach that she had while waiting for a rollercoaster to shoot forward.

Exhilaration.

 

***

Noah opened the passenger side door of his truck for her before they left the bar, which she loved. Both the action and the truck. The trucks that Joy was familiar with, she'd seen in cities: either semis for cargo or big shiny things that reminded her of show ponies. Noah's, like most of the trucks she'd seen since she had been in the South wasn't like that. It was an older, well-used model that he obviously put to work. Now that she had personally seen both, she much preferred the dirty tires and dusty body to expensive, shiny chrome.

She may suddenly be biased about such things, she realized, watching Noah slide into his own seat. He seemed even _more_ in the cab; broad, solid body and thick arms, hands large and strong enough to hurt her that were nervously gentle instead. Nervous again as he fumbled with the console between them and, to Joy's delight, lifted it up and latched it to turn the two seats into one.

"If ya wanna." He said it with a shrug, words and motion endearingly shy.

Hell yes, she wanted to. She scooted over before the thought was even finished. It was a real struggle, not snuggling into his side. He held her so gently, looked at her with such awe, like she had done something to deserve that. He became flustered when he offered to take her to his truck, had clarified his meaning in a way that said he wouldn’t dream of implying anything beyond talking. Noah Hunter was by far the most adorable, delicious man she had ever met.

Best of all, he was all _hers._

She ended up snuggling a little bit. Not a lot. Leaned into his side, her left leg pressed against his right, her head on his shoulder. There was more she could do, honestly--she could rest a hand on his knee or wrap an arm around his chest, or just slide into his lap and kiss him again and test the shocks on the truck. And she remembered how he he’d looked at her, so wide-eyed and worshipful, when she'd pulled back from their kiss before, and decided no. It would be better to wait to get where nobody could see them and she could have his worship all to herself.

Noah squirmed, and she nearly pulled away, but he only sank a bit lower in his seat, letting her fit more comfortably against him. Joy stayed where she was as he started the truck and pulled out of the parking lot. There was only one way to town, so she didn't tell him where to turn. He probably knew how to get there better than she did, once she told him where to go.

"The place I'm staying at is this apartment building-slash-motel thing on the other side of town. Do you know it?"

He nodded. "Yeah. Figured that was it." It was hard to tell in the dash lights, but she thought he was blushing when he glanced at her. "Only other place that offers rooms is a pay by the hour sorta place. Can't see ya stayin' there."

She laughed, knowing the place he meant. It was the only 'real' motel Heart had, a crusty-looking place with a few rooms that you drove up to, and she hadn't even looked into rates. It seemed like her instincts had been right about that. From what the landlord had told her and from what Joy had read between the lines, she offered studio apartments by the day and week to give travelers and people between homes another, better option.

"Need me to tell you where to go?" she asked, just in case.

"Nah," he answered, and then hesitated. She stayed silent, waiting, before he took a hand off the wheel to slide his arm around her shoulders, heavy and comforting and so hesitant.

There was an odd, wonderful sensation to his touch as his fingers settled on her arm, like he was holding a precious piece of glass that had just been spun and would burn him the second he handled her wrong. Her heart fluttered in her chest. She'd had plenty of guys throw their arm around her shoulder, but it had been friendly or a move, or, at worst, some terribly possessive gesture. No one who wanted her had ever touched her like it was a privilege.

They let the radio fill the silence on the short drive back to her room. She didn't recognize the two songs they listened to or their artists, but they were sweet songs, one merry and the other slow. Commercials started just as Noah pulled into a spot in the parking lot of the building, but neither of them hurried to get out. He pressed his cheek to the top of her head and turned the truck off with his free hand instead of letting her go, unwilling, maybe, or maybe she was projecting a bit. She had a room on the ground floor, not far from where he parked, and the bed inside was calling her again-- this time for different reasons.They would get around to answering that call together, she hoped, but it wasn't strong enough to pull her away from him, his warmth.

Her mother calling might be.

They both jumped when her mother's ringtone filled the cab. Not that Noah knew that was what it was, but Joy doubted he was expecting Taylor Swift to start playing at her phone’s top volume out of the blue.

"It's my mom," she explained, wiggling to extract her phone from her pocket before it could go to voicemail. She answered just in time. "Hello?"

“Joyful,” Acacia replied, her voice disapproving. “What did I tell you?”

It took her a moment to catch up to where Acacia was in the conversation, and for a moment after that she could only silently gape. There was no point in asking how her mom knew these things, but Joy had always wondered. She also wondered how sometimes, like now, she could completely forget that until it was too late.

"I--we've been talking?" she tried. "I was going to call as soon as I could."

“Well, all right,” her mother said after an excruciating pause. “So tell me about them!”

"His name is Noah, he works on a farm, he has great biceps, and he is sitting next to me." It was a dutiful, cheerful recitation, and hopefully she would take the hint to call back and finish this later.

“He sounds wonderful,” Acacia said. “Put him on the phone, Joyful, I need to talk to him.”

… She didn't even try to get out of that one. There was no hope. Suppressing a sigh, she put the phone down and gave Noah what she hoped was an apologetic enough expression. "My mom wants to talk to you."

To his credit he didn't ask, though he had only looked more and more confused since she had answered. To double his credit, he only blinked and nodded. "All righ’."

Joy pressed a quick kiss to his cheek for that, a soft smile on her lips. A press of a button on her phone screen, and then she handed the phone to Noah. "Okay, Mom, you're on speaker."

“Good,” her mother said, sounding slightly more tinny but otherwise exactly like herself. “Noah, is it?”

"Yes ma'am."

“What do you think of my daughter?”

Acacia’s voice sounded innocent, but the question was anything but. Joy groaned, and put her face in her hands. _”Mom.”_

“What?” her mother asked, still intensely innocent. “I can’t ask my only child’s soulmate what he thinks of her?”

_”No you cannot.”_

Noah lightly squeezed her shoulders, which would be more comforting if she couldn't feel him pressing a grin against the crown of her head. He pulled away before she could stick a light elbow in his ribs, and his words after that made her lower her hands and stop thinking about it altogether. "Think I been blessed, honestly."

“Excellent,” her mother said, sounding satisfied. “What do you do, Noah? Joy said you work on a farm, but I mean specifically.”

"Well." Acacia couldn't see his shrug, but Joy felt it. "Whatever needs doin', I guess? Take care a the animals and the fields, fix up the machines, mend the fences. That kinda stuff."

“Hmm.” That hum could ordinarily mean anything--Joy had heard her mother use it on disappointing undergrads and particularly favored relatives alike--but this time it sounded approving. “And you--”

The phone emitted a burst of static, then distant conversation, and then her father, getting closer, said, “... the kids alone, for God’s sake. Hello, son, welcome to the family. Joyful, call us when you’ve had some time. We love you.”

And like that, the call ended.

They sat in silence for a long moment, Noah staring at the phone in befuddlement while she resisted the urge to bury her face in her hands again.

"I'm _really_ sorry about that," she said.

The phone screen went dark and plunged the cab into a strange dimness, lit only by the orange security lights of the parking lot, before he answered. "... Did he call me 'son'?"

"Yeah. I think they like you already." She giggled a little nervously as she took her phone back. "I promise my mom isn't usually like that--I think it comes with being a teacher and meeting anyone old enough to be one of her students. And you know, the whole soulmate thing."

"Yeah." His voice was an awe-filled rumble that trembled through her breastbone and up her spine.

It sparked a sudden awareness of him that broke over her. The heat and weight of his arm, so heavy and safe across her shoulders, leading to his strong hand with a wide palm and long fingers that she desperately wanted to feel in other places; the wall of muscle that she could feel through his shirt that came from anywhere but a gym, so much steadier than the defined, ripped men she was used to seeing and working with; the scent of him wrapped around her, dirt and wood and sweat just underneath it. It all settled heavy between her legs and the tips of her breasts.

Joy knew how he would be looking at her before she looked up at him. Even with half of his face in shadow, his eyes shone in a way that made her heart skip. If it were possible, she thought he might slide off the seat to his knees and look at her worship.nThe thought, and the ideas of what else he could do while he was down there, warmed her through.

"Did you still want to go to my room?" she asked in a soft whisper, all she could manage as long as he looked at her like that.

He nodded, blushing when she smiled. It was hard to tell in the odd light, but she knew in her soul, and what else could she do but kiss him?

_Mine_ , she thought, cupping his face and leaning up to seal her lips over his. _All mine._

**Author's Note:**

> Please, if you enjoyed reading this and/or have constructive criticism, leave a comment!


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